“Oh, a dozen, I hope!” Jack exclaimed. “We haven’t had any mail for a month.”
It turned out that there were fifteen letters for Jack. The one he prized most came from Patsy. In part it ran:
Oh, Jack! Do take care of yourself and come back soon. It’s only since you’ve been gone that I’ve learned how much you mean to my young life. You’re the only boy I ever really cared for, and the only one I ever shall.
“Boy!” Jack exclaimed. “That fixes things just about hunkydory! ‘Take good care of yourself.’ That’s just what I’ve been doing. ‘Come back soon.’ Wouldn’t I love it! Even just for a day!”
Did a good gremlin whisper, “Sooner than you think”? If he did, he spoke the truth. The old Black Bee had been tied to the repair dock at Pearl Harbor for three days. Ted, who was practically himself again, and Mary, who was enjoying a new lease on life, had been making good use of the Hawaiian moonlight. One morning Jack and Stew were taking in the sights, when Jack was called back to the ship by his commander.
“Get your things together,” the Commander ordered. “You’re going back to the States by plane.”
“What’s that, sir?” Jack stared. “What have I done now?”
“Plenty!” The Commander smiled. “It happens you’re the only living man who has flown a jet plane in actual combat! Since our people are soon to put this new type of plane into production—”
“They want my expert advice, sir?” Jack laughed. “Why not, sir? It will be a real pleasure!”
“You leave by plane in three hours, so you’d better start packing. Good-by and good luck.” The Commander extended his hand. “The Black Bee will be shipshape about thirty days from now. We shall hope to have you back by then. And if you can talk them out of about ten of those jet planes for our carrier, I’ll recommend your promotion to a Lieutenant’s rank.”